


Time To Dance

by disloyalorderoftrash



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, dance partners au, i'm sorry about the title but it was necessary, ryan is a pretentious scene guy, this is so bad sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disloyalorderoftrash/pseuds/disloyalorderoftrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Ryan, a self-declared punk rocker and very straight guy, is forced to dance with this boy who is a total asshole and definitely not attractive at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time To Dance

**Author's Note:**

> based on a post by and dedicated to [babyryanross.tumblr.com](http://babyryanross.tumblr.com) (ily ryden queen)

I hate my life. 

I knew it wasn't a good idea to let my friends persuade me to accompany them to their dancing class. I'm totally _not_ offended that none of the girls wanted to dance with me, I just hate it here. If they're all so superficial that they don't want me because I look different than the average person, well, their loss. I don't want them either, those stupid, shallow people who don't have thoughts deeper than about their make-up. 

I scowl at the dancing crowd in the dimly lit room. They're trying to look elegant while imitating the dancing teacher's instructions and failing miserably. I could do this so much better. I spot Jon dancing with a pretty blonde girl. He gives me a smile when he sees me looking. I just glare at him. If he wants to let me down like this, well, I never valued our friendship anyway. 

This is ridiculous. I decide that I'm not going to stay any longer. The terrible disco music feels like acid in my brain, and I don't mean the drug. To electronic beats, a guy is singing about how much he wants some girl, using elaborate metaphors such as „her boom boom drives me crazy“. I have had better ideas while sitting on the toilet. Don't these people have ears? Haven't they ever heard of _real_ music? 

I get up. As I'm making my way to the door, it opens and a boy barges in, bringing a rush of cold air from the outside with him. I manage to jump out of the way when he almost runs into me. 

„Sorry I'm late“, he calls out, but no one except me is near enough to hear him over the music. 

„No need to tell me, I was just about to leave anyway“, I inform him. 

„Ohhh, why? Didn't find a partner? No problem, you can dance with me“, he offers and laughs. I frown. Is he making fun of me? 

„No thanks. For your information, I am not gay, and even if I were, you wouldn't be my first choice“, I say. 

For a moment, he looks genuinely taken aback. „Oh, you... I thought you were... must have been the eyeliner. Sorry.“ 

Is he saying that he thought I was a _girl_? This is getting better and better. „Bye“, I snap. I hope we will never meet again. 

Just as I am about to open the door, the dancing teacher spots us and comes running towards me. „Hey, why are you leaving? Is it because you don't have a partner? Brendon here just arrived, you can dance together“, he says. 

I consider leaving anyway and making sure to slam the door as hard as possible, but I can't. I may be punk rock, but I am not that impolite. „Yeah, uh, I guess“, I mumble. „Great.“ The teacher gives us a thumbs-up and leaves again, hurrying to correct some poor couple's attempts at dancing. 

The boy – Brendon – bows and says, „Well then, gentle lady, may I ask for this dance?“ 

I grit my teeth and answer, „You may.“ 

He takes my left hand and places his right on my hip. At least he doesn't have disgusting, sweaty hands – on the contrary, they're dry but soft and warm. 

When he attempts to guide my hand to his shoulder, I protest, „Wait, am I supposed to be the woman?“ 

„Oh, yes. I figured you like to take the girl's role in... dancing.“ He smirks at me, voice full of insinuation. 

„What the fuck is that supposed to mean?“, I hiss. 

„Well, if you don't want to, I can do it, too. I'm flexible.“ He doesn't stop smiling in this irritating way. 

„Yes, please“, I spit out. 

„No need to be that angry“, he says. 

I put my right hand on his hip. Through the fabric, I can feel his hipbone and the warmth of his skin, and my own skin starts tingling from the touch and.... no, it's definitely _not_ a pleasant feeling. It must be repulsion because I am forced to touch him when I have absolutely no desire to do so at all. 

None at all. 

„Just to make that clear“, I say. „As I already told you, I am not gay. I'm just dancing with you because... of heterosexual reasons.“ 

He laughs. „I know. That's the first thing you told me about yourself, before I even knew your name.“ He cocks his head and smiles. „And besides, you wouldn't be my first choice.“ 

I scowl when I realize that he is quoting me. „For the record, my name is Ryan.“ 

„Great name!“, he enthuses sarcastically. 

Seriously? It's a completely normal name. What have I done to this guy that he can't seem to stop making fun of everything I say? I decide that I will never tell him my complete name. 

„So... are we going to start dancing, or what?“, I ask. 

„You're the... _man_ in this. You're the one who leads, so start“, he replies. 

I nod stiffly and start the step sequence. It's a simple mambo, nothing I haven't done before, which is good because I don't want to give him the pleasure of fucking up. We soon find our rhythm, moving in unison to the beat of the music. He quickly adjusts to taking the woman's part he is probably not used to. 

After a while, I dare to tear my eyes away from the floor and look at his face again. His gaze is fixed at a point beside my head, deliberately not looking at me. I study his face. Messy dark hair, big brown eyes reflecting the dim light, barely visible stubble on his chin. His lips are so full they could almost be considered oversized, as well as his forehead, but they don't make his face appear less well-proportioned or less attractive, and as much as I hate it, I have to admit that he is damn gorgeous. 

I find it hard to avert my eyes as we keep moving together. I'm not gay, but can't a man appreciate another man's beauty? It's not that I am attracted to him, no. I'm not, and I am straight. It's completely normal for a straight guy to be turned on by gay porn, right? I love girls, they're... soft. And nice. And I am not attracted to men at all. Definitely not. 

After a while, still not looking at me, he says, „Would you please stop staring, Ryan? I know I'm hot, but you're making me uncomfortable.“ 

I flinch, miss a beat and mess up our rhythm. „I wasn't – I wasn't staring at you.“ 

„Sure.“ He holds me back for a second and takes up the movements like nothing has happened. I am furious that he is better at dancing than me. „And you're straight as a pole. God, confused guys in denial are adorable.“ 

„I'm not confused -“, I weakly attempt to protest, but then I give up. I'm not in the mood for a discussion with this asshole. I don't care what he thinks. 

„Nice song, isn't it? I like it“, he says, smiling and nodding his head to the beat. 

„What?“ I stare at him. 

„I said I like the song. Be a little nicer, I'm just trying to make some conversation.“ 

So right after insulting me he wants us to talk like we're best friends? No thanks. „I hate it“, I state dismissively. „Every shit piece of pop music that's being played in this place. It all sucks. That's not _real_ music.“ 

He raises his eyebrows and looks and me, up and down, from my black leather shoes to my elaborate eyeliner. „Of course you would say you hate it. I knew it.“ 

What is he trying to say now? Furiously and at a loss for words, I give him a death glare and decide that I will not talk to him for the rest of the lesson unless I am forced to. I wish there was a clock somewhere. When will this finally be over? 

***

One could think that I would learn from my mistakes, but no, next week I let myself be persuaded to come again. When Jon, William and I are standing outside the building, I already regret my choice. 

„I think I'm going to go home again“, I tell them. 

„Come on, dude“, Jon says. „Now you've come all the way. And this time someone will dance with you, I'm sure.“ 

I hesitate, but he is right – there is still hope this time. I'm wearing a little less eyeliner today. Maybe I'm lucky and Brendon won't be there at all, too. I really don't feel like meeting him again. 

I'm not lucky. Once we're inside, I see him. He gives me a fake friendly smile and says, „Oh, hello, Ryan. I never really thought that you'd come tonight.“ 

„Just ignore me“, I say and return the smile icily. 

„That's going to be hard when we're dancing, but I'll manage it“, he answers. 

„I wasn't planning to dance with you again“, I say sweetly. 

He acts shocked. „What! I am deeply insulted. However, I don't think you have a choice, my dear. The partner you choose in the first lesson is the one you'll get to spend the rest of the time with. The ball at the end too, by the way.“ His face breaks into an evil grin as he extends his hand for me to take it. 

What? I thought we could choose a new partner every week, like in any _reasonable_ dancing school. 

„This is it. I'm leaving“, I declare. 

„Wait a second, man“, Jon pipes in. „Can we talk?“ 

He grabs my arm and pulls me a few meters away, out of earshot. „What the fuck?“, he whispers urgently. „What did this guy do to you? Why do you hate him?“ 

„He insulted me“, I mumble. „He called me a girl and gay.“ „That's not... oh my god“, he says, exasperated. „Please, stay. Just today. Do it for me.“ 

„Why would I do that for you?“, I bite back. 

„Jesus Christ, Ryan“, he sighs. „Please, take yourself a little less seriously and do this.“ 

„Thanks a lot“, I hiss. Me? Taking myself too seriously? Ridiculous. I'll show him. 

I turn around and stomp towards a confused-looking Brendon. „So, wanna dance or what?“, I snap. 

„Uh. Yes. Of course.“ He is about to add something, probably some annoying comment, but unfortunately the dancing teacher interrupts him. „Today it's merengue time!“, he shouts over the masses of talking people. Next to me, I hear Brendon whisper, „Oh no“. I give him a questioning look, but he just shakes his head. 

When the teacher proceeds to demonstrate the basic steps with his female assistant, I think I know what he meant. This dance seems to involve lots of hip movement and rather close contact. I groan internally. Great. Perfect. 

The shitty music starts playing and Brendon grabs my hand. Just don't fuck this up, I tell myself. Different than the last time, this is a dance I have never learned before and therefore am not used to. 

I do my best to focus on the step sequence, but him touching me keeps distracting me. Our thighs brush once again, the touch makes my skin tingle in that strange way. I know I should think it's unpleasant, but it really isn't. 

Just don't look at him now, keep your eyes on the ground. If I look at his face now, I will remember the time it came to my mind when I was touching myself, when I suddenly, without meaning to, imagined how he would look when he came, pupils widened, mouth dropping open and moaning. 

No. No, think of something different. Think of... but my mind is blocked, all I can focus on is my hand in his, and his smell – god, I want to know what brand of deodorant he uses – and the warmth of his skin against mine. It's too late. I can feel my dick pressing against my suddenly too tight pants. Shit. 

Distracted, I mess up the steps and stumble against Brendon. Hoping he didn't notice anything, I immediately try to untangle myself from him. However, he looks down and at my face again, giving me a meaningful look, eyebrows raised. „Glad to see you're enjoying our physical contact.“ 

Fuck. „I... I need to go to the toilet“, I choke out. 

„Have fun“, he says, grinning. 

I flip him off as I make my way through the dancing, sweating crowd. 

When I have reached the bathroom, I sit down on the closed lid of the toilet, taking slow, controlled breaths and trying to soothe my rapidly beating heart. It's kind of difficutlt because the smell in here is terrible – this is a public toilet, after all. With the sleeve of my sweater protecting my nose, I somehow manage to calm down. 

Sure, I could jerk off now, but what kind of person would that make me? Not the kind I want to be – just some needy, hormone-driven teenager. I'm also paranoid that Brendon could sense it somehow, and I certainly don't want him to think that of me. Therefore I stay still, thinking of everything but him and patiently waiting for my erection to die down. 

After about ten minutes, I re-enter the dancefloor. 

„Hope you had a good time“, Brendon greets me. 

„I didn't... do what you're thinking right now.“ 

„Sure“, he snorts. „Anyway, you missed a new step sequence. Want me to teach it to you?“ 

I grudgingly agree because if he doesn't show me, no one will and I will look like a loser because I'm unable to do what everyone else has learned already. 

He starts guiding me around, pulling and shoving me rather roughly. The figure contains some weird turns and twists that I keep fucking up. When we have to free ourselves from the knot of limbs I have created for the fourth time, he curses and says, „Do you have any talents at all? Fuck this. Let's just stop and go outside.“ 

„We can't just leave“, I object. 

„Why? No one is gonna care. You're with me, and I'm best buddies with the people who run this. And we have only ten minutes or something left and I don't think you'll manage to learn it. Besides... now I'm gonna sound like you, but the music annoying the hell out of me.“ 

„Okay, right“, I agree hesitantly. „But I have to wait for my friends.“ 

„Yeah, right, I don't care. Do that.“ He grabs my wrist. Together we snake through the masses of people. 

Once we're outside in the cool, fresh air, I inhale deeply. „God, I had forgotten what breathing feels like. The air in there is _terrible_.“ 

„Hmm.“ He apparently isn't even listening to me, but staring at me intensely. 

„What?“ I falter under his gaze. „Is something wrong with my face?“ Oh god, what if my eye make-up is smudged? 

„No. Not at all.“ 

„Well then, why are you staring -“ 

Before I can react, he is leaning forward and touching my lips with his. Every sensible thought leaves my brain. Oh god, oh fuck. What am I supposed to do? The countless kissing tips I read in teen magazines suddenly seem useless. 

The lips are moving, sucking softly at my bottom lip, and fuck, is that his _tongue_? If his lips on mine were hot already that's nothing compared to our tongues brushing. Any last rationality that was left in my head evaporates as my entire mind focuses on the strange but insanely pleasant sensation. I subconsciously start responding to the touch, just reacting and going with it. When I start feeling like, hey, I might not be too bad at this, wow, actually I'm good, he suddenly is gone again. 

I am trembling, overwhelmed, while Brendon grins at me. He isn't even out of breath. „I knew it“, he says triumphantly. 

"What?“ 

„You're not only a virgin, you've also never been kissed before.“ 

„I – No, I -“ I fall silent, realising that lying doesn't have a point. I feel embarrassed. Was it really that obvious? 

„Though I have to admit“, he continues, „for a first kiss you weren't bad, no, not half-bad.“ 

„Uh, thanks. It wasn't a... bad first kiss for me either, though I naturally don't have a lot to compare it to.“ 

„Even if you did, you'd still think it was good.“ He smiles smugly. 

„Um. Probably.“ I stare at the floor awkwardly, still fighting to regain my full consciousness. „But... why? You hate me.“ 

„I don't hate you“, he says incredulously. 

„You've been making fun of me ever since we met“, I state. 

„I don't... well, maybe I do hate you a little, because you're pretentious and arrogant as fuck, but also hella cute. Wanna drink a coffee with me some time?“ 

„What?“, I ask again. 

„Coffee. Starbucks or something. Unless that's too basic for you, in that case we can do something more emo, like listen to My Chemical Romance and talk about how ugly the world is“, he suggests, barely disguising his sarcasm. 

„I'm not emo – yeah but... yeah. I would... I mean, I think I would.... like that.“ I clear my throat. „Is this a... date or...?“ 

„Uh, yes, if I recall it correctly, that's what it's called when two people who have a romantic interest in each other go out together“, he replies, laughing. 

I blink, stuck on the word „romantic“. 

„So, do you want to?“, he asks impatiently. 

I exhale slowly and smile at him. „Yes. And I'm taking back what I said to you.“ 

„What do you mean?“ 

„Well, I don't think I'm fully straight. And you might actually be my first choice.“


End file.
